Judgement
by SupernaturalGeek
Summary: A potential hunt at a holy retreat has Dean thinking about past sins.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N This is a special gift for bhoney's birthday. _

_I would just like to point out that I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone with strong religious beliefs. The story is intended to be (hopefully) humorous and entertaining, and reflect the views that have already been expressed by the characters onscreen. I am very definitely of the opinion that everyone is entitled to believe what they want and be respected for it.. _

_Finally, there is a reference at the beginning that relates directly to one of my other stories, Meditation & Murder. You don't have to have read that one first though, I just didn't want anyone who hadn't read it thinking 'I don't remember that in the show…' _

_And I really am going now…._

"Ok, I think I got one."

Dean looked up from the knife he was sharpening. "Yeah?"

Sam nodded, glancing across. "Yeah."

Dean waited and when nothing more was forthcoming, raised an eyebrow. "You do know you're the only psychic in the family, right? You're gonna have to actually say it out loud."

Sam shot him a dirty look before scanning through the last bit of info he'd been reading and sitting up straighter. "You really should try the whole patience thing one day, Dean. As I was about to say, it's a bunch of disappearances over near Centerville."

"And they look like our gig because?" Dean interuppted.

"Because of a witness description. Guy here says he saw a 'grey figure', too big to be human, chasing him. The article puts it down to hysteria, since he was found out in the woods after being missing for a week, but when you look into it further he's not the only person to go 'missing' in that area – I've managed to find at least 10 so far, and that's only going back two years."

Dean frowned. "Does anything tie them together? Any other witness reports?"

Sam shook his head. "Not that I've found. All the others are still missing, but they did all disappear from the same place. Or at least not long after visiting the same place."

"And the cops never linked them?"

"Not that I can see. They're pretty spread out and all the victims were, according to the folks that reported them missing, the kind to just take off so I don't think anyone's really taken it too seriously. Could be they haven't picked it up yet either, given it's a pretty well populated area."

Dean put down the knife and threw the block after it as he walked over to the table. Peering over Sam's shoulder at the laptop, he scanned the article. "You know 'big grey thing' doesn't really give us a lot to go on."

Sam shrugged. "I know, but we've looked into jobs on a lot less. It does seem kind of a coincidence, all these people vanishing into thin air in the same place."

"Yeah, or it could just be this town attracts a lot of flakes."

Sam rolled his eyes then fidgeted slightly, wondering how best to broach the bit he'd left out so far. Dean noticed and gave him a look. "What?"

Sam glanced up, trying to look innocent. "Nothing."

"Don't 'nothing' me, Sam. Unless you got itching powder in your pants again there's something you're not telling me, so just spit it out already."

Sam shifted his chair a little further away, still going for complete innocence. "It's nothing important."

"Sam."

Responding to the warning tone Sam grimaced slightly. "Ok, it's just a little thing. But you have to promise not to make a big deal out of it."

Dean folded his arms. "Oh, I'm loving the sound of this already."

Sam tried not to look exasperated. "Seriously, it's not even like the last time."

"What last time?"

There was a silent battle of wills until finally Sam looked away first and expelled the words in one single breath. "."

There was a brief look of confusion as Dean tried to separate the words in his head. When he finally did, he glared at Sam. "Oh no. No way, Sam. Not a chance!"

"Come on, this sounds totally different."

"Uh huh. Do you not remember the last time we investigated some mystical retreat? Getting chained in the basement, me nearly drowning – this ringing any bells with you?"

"Of course I remember but there's no reason it would be the same. This sounds like a creature, not some human psycho looking to live forever."

"I don't care, we are not going to another retreat. End of story. I'm still trying to get over the whole incense and tofu thing." said Dean, shuddering.

Sam gave him an incredulous look. "Right, cos that's the bit that bothers you most. Not that you nearly died, but that you accidentally ate tofu."

"Damn straight."

Deciding that it really wasn't even worth trying to contradict that, Sam instead turned his efforts back to persuasion. "Look putting aside the whole bad experience issue, this is a completely different place anyway."

"How so?"

Sam looked awkward again. "Well, it's. They do. It's sort of a.."

The last word was mumbled and Dean leaned closer. "It's a what?"

Sam sighed. Might as well get it over with. "It's a religious retreat."

Dean blinked. "Religious?"

"Yes."

"As in God-bothering kind of religious?"

Sam elbowed him. "Dude, have a little respect would you? Yes, it's a Christian retreat. It's run by the Catholic church actually – monks, I think."

"Oh well, why didn't you say so? In that case no, we're definitely not going."

"Dean, be reasonable."

Dean interrupted him before he could finish the sentence. "I am being reasonable. I'm reasonably certain that there is absolutely no way we are going to spend time surrounded by chanting monks asking me to 'praise the lord' while we look for some vague creature that may or may not be killing people."

As he spoke Dean moved back over to the bed, picking up the knife and block he'd discarded earlier and turning his attention back to it. Sam wasn't about to give up though and followed, sitting down on the opposite bed and facing his brother. "Come on, you can't say no to this just because you don't happen to believe in God. If there really is something out there then it's killing people."

Dean didn't even look up. "Still not going."

Sam sighed. "Fine. If that's what you want. I must have been wrong I guess."

Dean could hear the line coming a mile away and knew Sam was pulling out all the stops to manipulate him, but he answered anyway. He was curious which angle his brother was gonna go for this time. "Wrong about what?"

"About what we do. I thought it was about saving people, I never realised we had to check out their religious beliefs beforehand."

Dean smirked. "Nice try, Sam, but a little predictable don't you think? Going for the whole 'it's about saving people' angle - I seem to recall you've used your quota on that one this year already."

Sam inwardly cursed but outwardly pretended to ignore the jibe. It was kind of irritating sometimes, trying to get something past someone who knew you so well. "Whatever. I was being serious. But if you're so convinced this is nothing then I could go check it out myself. Save you from the chanting monks."

That got him a sharp look. "Oh, so you're skipping the others and moving straight to that one, eh? Well the answer's still no. We don't hunt alone, you know that."

"You do realise I don't actually have to ask permission, since I'm old enough to vote and all."

There was a certain bite to the words that warned Dean they were suddenly standing on shaky ground. Putting the knife down and deliberately keeping his tone even, he met Sam's gaze. "This isn't about that, so don't start ok?"

Sam glared for a brief moment then backed down. They'd been over this argument enough times for him to know he didn't want to do it again. "I wasn't starting. But my point still stands – these people need our help, Dean. And you're always the one telling me this is what we do. 'The family business' and all that. Last time I checked we don't just pick the jobs we like."

Dean watched as Sam got up and went back over to the table, sitting back down in front of the laptop. Dean carried on sharpening the knife for a few minutes then gave a frustrated sigh.

He really hated when Sam was right.

Sam heard the sigh and managed to stop himself grinning. He knew full well what it meant but he also knew that looking too pleased was a bad idea.

Especially when Dean had a knife in his hand.

"Alright."

The word was spoken through gritted teeth and Sam briefly considered asking Dean to repeat it then discarded the thought, still bearing in mind the whole armed thing. "Great. I'll sort out the directions."

Thirty minutes later they were on the road, complete with Dean still muttering under his breath that he would stab the first person who tried to hold his hand and Sam deliberately ignoring it. "If we don't stop we should be there in a couple of hours." he said.

Dean just grunted.

Sam wisely decided to leave his brother to his sulking and watched the scenery go by. In the end they did have to make one stop, for gas and an appeasing bag of M&Ms that Sam picked up on his way to the register. Dean didn't exactly become Mr Sunshine when they were dropped on his lap, but he did lighten up a little and stopped sulking long enough to finish them in fifteen minutes flat.

As they entered the driveway that lead down to the retreat Dean shoved the empty bag on the back seat and looked over at Sam. "You do realise we might not even get in."

Sam smirked. "You don't have to sound quite so hopeful you know. If we can't get in we'll have to think of another way to get a look inside. But until they say no for sure let me do all the talking ok?"

Dean was silent until Sam eventually elbowed him. Glaring and rubbing his ribs Dean grudgingly conceded. "Fine, you do all the talking. Like I wanna be the one chatting with these guys anyway."

He pulled into an empty parking space near a large stone building. Switching off the engine he glanced around, noting that there were only a few other cars besides the Impala. Sam got out first, heading for the front door, and Dean reluctantly followed. He eyed the building suspiciously and was so engrossed he nearly walked into Sam's back when his brother suddenly stopped in front of him.

"Can I help you?"

Hearing the unknown voice Dean peered round Sam and saw a man stood in front of them, dressed in a brown monk's habit. He looked like he was in his sixties at least and was about a foot shorter than both of them. Smiling benignly up at them he waited patiently for his answer.

"Um, hi. We were wondering if you maybe had a room free for a couple of days?" said Sam, giving the monk a brightly hopeful smile. He didn't look behind him but hoped Dean at least wasn't scowling.

"Do you have a reservation?" asked the monk and Sam shook his head. "No, we were just in the area and we heard about this place and wanted to try it. We just needed somewhere to relax for a while and work through some stuff."

Dean resisted the urge to snort at Sam's serious expression and earnest tone. He really was laying it on thick. The monk however obviously wasn't a cynical man and he smiled again. "Well, I think you may be in luck. We're actually very quiet at the moment, only a few guests, so I'm sure we could accommodate you. Why don't you come with me?"

Without waiting for an answer the monk turned round and walked towards the building. Shooting Dean a triumphant look, that earned him a shove from behind, Sam followed.

Inside the place was darker than he'd been expecting and Sam blinked a little to adjust his eyes. He could sense Dean behind him so he concentrated on the monk and the surroundings. The entrance hall was big, the ceiling so far up he couldn't see it. The walls were stone and there was nothing on them, except the odd wooden crucifix or a picture of the Virgin Mary. There was no front desk or any furniture and the monk led them straight through and into a smaller room just off to the left. He stopped and turned, indicating that they should take a seat on the small leather couch that sat against the wall. "If you would wait here, I'll be right back." he said and Sam nodded.

The monk silently disappeared through a second doorway and Sam sat. Dean stayed on his feet, looking round, until Sam yanked on his arm. "Sit down." he hissed, mindful that they could be being watched.

Dean pulled his arm away but did as he was told. Saying nothing he continued his scan of the room, all the while leaning back nonchalantly, and he easily spotted the tiny hidden camera in the corner of the ceiling. Casually turning as if he was simply looking at the books on the case next to them, he caught Sam's eye and almost imperceptibly shifted his head in the direction of the camera. Sam moved and his gaze flicked upwards, equally as casually, before looking back at Dean again as he gave the tiniest of nods.

Satisfied his brother had seen the device as well, Dean went back to appraising the room. Most of the books looked religious, and old, and aside from the couch there was a medium sized desk against the other wall with a chair sitting beside it. The desk itself was freakily tidy. In fact, the whole room looked like no one ever used it and Dean was about to comment on this when the door opened again and the monk came through, this time followed by a slightly taller, more severe looking man.

"Here we are, Father. These are the young men I was telling you about." said the original monk, sweeping one arm in their direction.

The new addition seemed less than impressed and Sam quickly stood, relieved when Dean followed. The first monk seemed to feel his work was done and bowed low to all of them before leaving by the other door.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable under the piercing gaze of the man they were left with, Sam struggled not to fidget. After a few moments the priest waved a hand at them. "Please, you may be seated."

"Gee thanks." said Dean, under his breath, and Sam found himself hoping the guy didn't have perfect hearing.

"I understand from Brother Jerome that you wish to spend some time with us, is that correct?"

The priest's voice was strong and steely, giving away nothing of his emotions. Sam met his gaze unflinchingly and nodded with a slight smile. "Yes, that's right. We were hoping you might have a room for a few days?"

The priest's eyes moved to Dean and then back to Sam again. "As Brother Jerome may have mentioned, we are very quiet at the moment. We will be able to offer you both a room, for as long as you wish."

Sam was surprised at the speed of the offer and tried not to show it. "That's great."

_Yeah, terrific _thought Dean, but he kept it to himself.

"Do you know how long you will be staying?"

Sam paused, as if considering the question. "A few days, maybe longer – if that was ok?"

The priest smiled, but it wasn't particularly reassuring. "That would be fine. If you would like to collect your things I will have someone show you to your rooms."

Taking that as the dismissal it was Sam stood up, nodded his thanks and headed back out the way they'd come. They passed no one else and as Dean opened the trunk Sam leaned in next to him, so they wouldn't be overheard.

"What do you think?" he said quietly and Dean looked sideways at him.

"You really want me to answer that?"

"Dean."

"Alright, don't get excited. I think the place is like something out of a hammer horror film and that guy in there is creepy as hell. Satisfied?"

Sam winced. "Could you maybe not use that word while we're here?"

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his bag out. They'd already moved some weapons into their bags before they left the motel, so they wouldn't have to do it in plain sight, although there were less than Dean would have liked. They'd each taken a handgun, one of the larger knives, some silver rounds just in case and Dean also had John's journal, while Sam carried the laptop.

Even though Dean had already laughed at the idea of them having wireless in a place like this.

Closing the trunk and taking a last look to make sure the car was ok, Dean frowned. "You notice he said rooms, right? As in plural. That might be a problem if we want to go over a plan of action."

Sam didn't look any happier. "Yeah, I know, but what can we do? We'll just have to talk when we get the chance and hope we don't get overheard."

As they walked back inside Dean shook his head. "This is going well already." he said, loud enough only for Sam to hear.

Before Sam could reply Brother Jerome appeared again. "Follow me." he said, still smiling pleasantly.

Paying attention to everything they walked behind the monk, their footsteps echoing on the flagstones as they went down a long corridor. Brother Jerome stopped halfway along, reaching out and opening two doors next to each other. "Here you are." he said and stepped back, allowing them to move past him.

Dean eyed the room, which was just big enough for a single bed against the wall, a small desk with a chair, and a chest of drawers. He turned to face Brother Jerome. "Let me guess, none of the rooms are locked, right?"

Brother Jerome smiled serenely. "Of course not." he said, as if genuinely puzzled that anyone should want to lock a door. "Dinner is at 5.30pm, followed by Vespers. After that you will be free to walk the grounds or use the library for quiet contemplation. Lights out is at 10pm, and we do not expect guests to attend the night services. Unless you specifically wish to, of course." He paused and reached into a pocket hidden somewhere amongst the folds of his habit. "If you could fill in these cards with your details and give them back to me that would be most helpful."

Handing the cards to Dean he bowed low again and swept back down the corridor, leaving them alone. Sam, who'd heard the explanation as well, leant against the doorframe of Dean's room. "I'm gonna assume you want to skip the night services." he said, dryly, and Dean grimaced.

"I'd skip all of them if I could."

"Well you can't." said Sam firmly. "We don't need to draw attention to ourselves. Which, by the way, means acting like you go to church all the time and not sitting there rolling your eyes and looking at your watch."

Dean looked indignant then dropped the act when it was clear Sam wasn't buying it. "Fine, I'll do my 'amens' like a good boy. But we better find out what it is that's taking these people and fast, cos I do not want to stay here any longer than we have to."

Sam let it drop, reflecting he'd done well to get that much out of his brother. Walking the five steps it took to get back to his own room, he looked around hoping for a hiding place for the weapons. He ran a hand through his hair slightly frustratedly when there was none. It wasn't like he really expected monks to go rummaging through his stuff but there had been something about the priest that was 'off'. He was still trying to decide on a course of action when Dean appeared in the door, pulling his shirt down at the back.

"Come on – grab your gear and lets go check the place out."

"What do you mean grab my gear?"

Dean looked at him like he'd just asked a dumb question. "What, you were planning on leaving your weapons in here? In the unlocked room? I'd love to see you explain that one to Brother Jerome."

Sam suddenly realised why Dean had been rearranging his shirt. "You're gonna walk around the place and go into a church armed?"

"No, Sam, I'm gonna walk around the creepy retreat looking for a murderous creature with just my sharp wit to attack it with."

"But,"

Dean held up a hand. "No buts, just get your stuff and let's get on with this, ok? What do you think they're gonna do anyway, frisk us on the way in? Or maybe you think the church has a metal detector by the door?"

Sam glared at him but, not having a better idea, reluctantly tucked his own gun in the waistband of his jeans and quickly buckled the sheath for his knife to his ankle before slipping the blade in. He pushed the duffle to one side, now containing nothing more incriminating than his crumpled clothes, and followed Dean out of the room.

"We'll try outside first." said Dean, over his shoulder. "That way we can avoid the men in frocks until it's absolutely necessary."

Sam cringed. He had a sudden feeling this was going to be a long few days.


	2. Chapter 2

A quick walk round the grounds had revealed nothing unusual. There was an eight foot perimeter fence that Dean had voiced was entirely OTT, given it was a religious retreat, and a large grassed area at the back with some trees along one side.

The sound of a bell being rung had alerted them it was dinner time and they'd headed back inside. Sam realised that neither Brother Jerome or the priest had mentioned where the dining room was, but there were a few other people around now so they'd simply followed them.

"There'd better not be tofu."

Sam resisted the urge to sigh, giving a friendly smile to the woman in front who'd turned round at the not so quiet comment. When she turned back again, without returning the smile, he glared at Dean. "Don't even start, ok? Just try and control yourself until we're done with this would you?"

Dean gave him an injured look. "I've no idea what you mean, Sammy. I'm the model of good behaviour."

"Compared to what?"

Sam was spared the answer by their arrival at the dining room. They sat down at the table nearest the door, watching as around thirty monks and ten guests arranged themselves around the room. There was one table that sat higher than the rest, in front of a massive open fireplace, and sitting in the middle was the priest they'd met earlier flanked by two monks in black habits. Once everyone was seated some more monks appeared, carrying plates, and within minutes everyone had been served the same meal.

To Dean's relief, not to mention Sam's, it appeared to be some kind of chicken stew with vegetables and there were baskets of bread on each table. Grinning triumphantly at his brother, Dean turned his head when the priest stood up and clasped his hands in front of him. Automatically everyone bowed their heads and - after a swift kick under the table from Sam – Dean reluctantly followed suit.

"Lord, we thank you for this food we are about to eat and for your blessing of another fruitful day. We ask that you watch over us and keep us safe while we serve in your name. Amen."

Everyone repeated the final word, in Dean's case practically under his breath. The priest looked around the room, stopping for slightly longer on Dean and Sam than on the others, then nodded and sat down. Immediately everyone began to eat, silently.

"Think there's a no talking rule?" Dean whispered and Sam shrugged. If there was it might just work in their favour, given the chances of his brother coming out with something inappropriate.

The food was actually very good, if plain, and Dean had finished his long before everyone else. He sat back and sipped his water, surreptitiously checking out the other occupants. All the monks were mostly middle aged, with the odd exception here and there, and the guests were a mixed bunch, but none of them really set off any alarm bells with him. In fact, so far, the only one who did was Father Wilson. Dean was aware that the priest was watching them but acted as if he was in blissful ignorance, allowing his eye to catch Father Wilson's only once and giving him a cheery smile when it did. The priest looked disdainful but managed a decidedly cooler smile in response.

"Anything?" murmured Sam and Dean glanced at him. "Not really. But old preacher boy up there really doesn't like us very much. He's been staring a hole in our table for the last five minutes and when I smiled at him you'd have thought he just swallowed something that moved."

Sam felt a small flare of concern but deliberately didn't turn around. No need to let the priest know they were talking about him. Instead he drank some water and sat back, matching Dean's relaxed pose. "So what's the plan of action?"

Dean shrugged. "We try and look around the place as much as we can after lights out. Hopefully this lot tend to stick to the rules so we'll be the only ones sneaking around."

"And if we're not?"

"Then we just tell them we suffer from insomnia. Come on, Sam, they haven't even really asked us who we are let alone checked us out. These guys take trust to a whole new level."

"Which some people might actually consider a virtue, Dean." said Sam, mildly, ignoring the grimace he got in return. "What about the priest though? He's suspicious of us already, we don't want to go making it worse."

Dean looked pensive. "We'll just have to make sure we don't get caught. I might try and talk to one of the monks after the service, get some info on Wilson and see if anything stands out."

Sam nodded. "Ok. I can talk to some of the guests, see if any of them have heard or seen anything strange since they've been here."

"You mean apart from the men in dresses?"

Sam's response was drowned out by a bell ringing, loudly. Everyone stood up and began moving towards a large door at the far end of the room so Dean and Sam followed suit, hanging back slightly so they could keep an eye on everyone else.

Through the door was a long corridor and at the other end a large wooden door had been left open. The monks and the guests filed through silently, each dipping their fingers in the stone bowl of water by the door and making the sign of the cross on their forehead. Sam deliberately pushed Dean in front of him with a look that clearly said to go along with it, which he grudgingly did.

Although it was more a waving of fingers in a vague pattern than an actual recreation of a cross.

As everyone else sat down, they found a space at the back and waited for the service to begin. Dean managed to grit his teeth and go with it, although he'd had no idea just how long these things went on for. He had a sneaking suspicion Sam had though, and made a note to come up with something suitable for retribution when they were done. As Father Wilson lead them in yet another prayer, and they knelt down for what seemed like the hundredth time, Dean groaned. "Are they seriously not done with the praying yet? If there is a God his eyes must have glazed over by now."

Sam looked sideways at him. "Would you keep your voice down? It's nearly over anyway."

That answered Dean's question about whether Sam had known in advance what the service entailed and he gave him an evil look. Sam was right though and as Father Wilson stopped speaking everyone repeated a final 'amen' and began to stand up. As the door was opened Dean and Sam made a swift exit ahead of everyone else, heading straight for their rooms. Once there Dean sat down on Sam's bed while his brother sat at the desk, powering up the laptop.

"You do know there's no chance of a signal in this place, right?" Dean said and Sam glanced over at him. "I know, but it's worth a shot."

Dean just smirked and leant back against the wall, thinking.

"Damn." said Sam, a few moments later.

"I thought we weren't supposed to cuss in here?"

"Very funny. You were right, there is no signal. Probably the thickness of the walls. Guess we do this the old fashioned way."

Dean grinned at him. "Makes it more fun that way, Sammy."

Sam shook his head. "Oh yeah, right up until the moment something kills us because we don't know we're dealing with."

Just then they heard faint footsteps and Dean sat up, shooting Sam a look. Sam quickly shoved the laptop back in his bag and sat back in the chair, trying to look relaxed. Seconds later Brother Jerome's smiling face appeared. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering if you had those cards for me perhaps?" he said and Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out the two slightly crumpled registration cards. "Here you go." he said, handing them over.

The monk took them without even looking, putting them back into the hidden pocket. "Thank you. Just to let you know, breakfast will be at 7am and I should remind you that lights out is at 10pm. If there is anything else you need, please let us know. God bless."

They both nodded to him as he bowed and left them alone once more. Dean shook his head. "Do you think he's for real?"

"Yes, I do actually." Sam replied. "Some people really are very religious."

"Yeah and some people are nuts."

"Dean!"

"What? Look I sat through the damn service, didn't I? Cut me a little slack here, Sam."

Sam sighed but let it go. "Fine. We should go see if we can find anyone to talk to, before lights out. At the moment we've got absolutely nothing to go on."

"Tell me about it. Alright, I'll go see if I can find some chatty monks and you go after the guests. We'll meet back here in an hour, ok?"

Sam nodded and followed Dean out of the door.

Virtually an hour later on the dot, Sam was back in the room. Dean showed up about a minute after, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Find anything?" said Sam, before he'd even sat down, and Dean grimaced. "Not really. Most of the monks think the sun shines out of our friendly priest. 'Very religious, extremely dutiful, takes his job seriously'. All of them say exactly the same thing. What about you?"

Sam sighed. "I only managed to speak to two of them but they've been here a week and haven't seen anything unusual. I was careful what I said but there was definitely no mention of a big grey creature or of anyone going missing."

"So that was really useful then." said Dean, looking unimpressed.

Sam mumbled a reply, frowning as something tickled the back of his mind. It was the very religious bit that had done it but he couldn't quite remember what it was.

"Hello? Earth to Sam?"

Sam looked up. "What?"

"You were miles away. You got something?"

Sam tried to pin down the thought again but it remained stubbornly elusive. "No. Maybe. I don't know, just something about what the monks said, about Father Wilson."

At that moment the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. "Well I guess that's lights out then." said Dean, dryly.

Standing up he felt his way to the door, looking back at Sam even though neither of them could see each other. "I'll come knock on your door in an hour, give everyone time to settle down. In the meantime try and remember what it was you thought of, ok? We need all the help we can get."

It was another loudly ringing bell that woke Dean and he groaned, pulling the pillow over his head. "It's like living with friggin Quasimodo." he muttered, moving the pillow only as the last notes faded away.

Their night-time exploration had proved fruitless and when they'd finally admitted defeat and returned to their rooms to sleep, Dean had discovered that whether you were going to attend a service or not the bell would ring for each one. So it was he'd spent the night drifting off only to be rudely awakened a short while later. Now it seemed there was a bell for breakfast as well. Cursing under his breath he got up and grabbed his things, opening the door just as Sam opened his.

"Morning." said Sam, far too cheerfully for Dean's liking. Sam was unfazed when he received only a grunt in reply, taking the lead as they headed for the bathrooms. After quickly showering they made their way back to the main dining room, Dean not even awake enough to protest the saying of grace this time.

Breakfast consisted of eggs and toast with coffee, much to Dean's delight. They'd managed to get a table alone again and by the time Dean had polished off his food and downed his coffee in virtually one swallow, he was feeling a little more alive. "So we need to find a way to check out the grounds, since the building was a bust last night." he said quietly and Sam nodded.

"According to the people I spoke to yesterday, everyone helps out with the chores while they're staying. If we volunteer for the gardens we might be able to slip away."

Dean looked at him approvingly. "Good plan."

They ended up spending the day pulling weeds, digging up vegetables and generally working up a sweat. Unfortunately it left them with little time to explore and although Dean managed to slip away once on a supposed toilet break, the grounds were as frustratingly normal as the rest of the building. It was quickly heading towards evening again when Sam noticed something as he tried to dig up a particularly stubborn weed. Glancing around to make sure he was alone he moved closer and bent down, picking up some of the stuff with one hand. He rubbed it against his fingers and looked thoughtful as it crumbled.

The niggling was definitely getting more persistent.

"You ok?"

Sam looked up, realising Dean had spotted what he was doing and made his way over. He stood up, brushing the dust off against his trousers. "Yeah. I think I might have something. I need to check in Dad's journal though."

Dean nodded, turning his head as the dinner bell rang. They headed back inside, dropping off their tools as they went, and quickly washed up before making their way to the dining room. This time, before any food was brought round, Father Wilson stood up. "Tonight, as most of you know, is the night we celebrate our Lord with song before we eat. One of our guests has kindly offered to lead us this evening."

Dean looked horrified. "You have got to be kidding me!" he hissed and Sam made a shushing noise. "It's not gonna kill you."

"It might."

A guest on a table at the far side had stood up and clasped her hands in front of her, a serious expression on her face. Sam realised it was the same guest who'd been unamused by Dean's tofu comment and cringed, hoping Dean wouldn't do anything to draw attention to himself during the song. Clearing her throat the woman took a deep breath and began.

"Kumbaya my Lord, Kumbaya."

Sam couldn't look at Dean. He really couldn't. Biting the inside of his cheek he began to mime the words, hoping his brother would at least do the same since Father Wilson kept glancing their way. After what seemed like an age the song ended and the guest sat down. Immediately monks appeared carrying plates and it was only then that Sam risked a look at Dean. The glare he got in return could have melted lead.

"I swear if you ever, ever mention this again." Dean warned and Sam just nodded, trying to look contrite. Part of him was wishing that he'd captured the moment on camera though.

Bobby would have loved it.

Halfway through the meal the amusement faded as something clicked into place in Sam's head so fast that he nearly choked on the piece of potato he was chewing.

"What's wrong?" said Dean, patting him on the back a little more vigorously than was strictly necessary.

"I think I know what it is. I need to look at Dad's journal though, now." Sam whispered.

Making sure the priest was engaged in conversation with one of the monks sitting next to him, they quietly slipped out of the door. Back at Dean's room Sam flicked through the pages of John's journal before grinning triumphantly. "Got it."

"What?" said Dean, craning his neck to try and see the page."

"I think it's a Golem."

"The weird bald dude from Lord of the Rings?"

Sam blinked. "You read Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously?"

"No, Sam. Man you're too easy sometimes. One of the films was on TV one time."

Sam glared at him which only made Dean smirk more. "So if it's not that guy then what the hell is a Golem?"

Still looking indignant, Sam turned back to the journal. "It's a creature made from clay and dirt – not just any dirt though, it has to be from a mountain and totally pure and untouched. The stuff is then mixed together and the creature is formed from it, with a piece of paper placed somewhere inside with one of the names of God on it. The thing is, Golem's don't act under their own steam – they have to be controlled by a 'master'. I remembered reading about these before and when you said that the monks all say Father Wilson is very religious, that's what started niggling at me. See these things are extremely rare because to create them you have to be incredibly holy. I think the priest is the one controlling this thing"

"Ok, so Wilson creates this Golem and then what? Gets it to kill people? Doesn't sound very holy to me."

Sam looked thoughtful. "It depends. All those missing person's reports I read all mentioned that the victim had a history of some kind of abuse. Alcohol, drugs, some of them had even been in prison. What if Father Wilson thought they were sinning? Maybe he's using the Golem to dish out his own form of justice."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "So he's playing judge, jury and executioner? Oh yeah, that's real holy."

Sam interrupted him. "Look, we need to find out if we're right before we start worrying about the priest. I found some clay like stuff out in the garden, when we were digging. That was my other clue. We should start there."

As they left the room and headed outside Father Wilson slowly stepped out of the shadows. He'd recognised these two as sinners from the moment he saw them. And now it seemed he was right. It was unfortunate they had somehow guessed about his creature, but it didn't matter.

They wouldn't live long enough to tell anyone.

_A/N If anyone is thinking that the idea of Dean singing Kumbaya is too unbelievable, there is a reason for that scene being there – it's kind of an in-joke that bhoney will recognise and she did request that I somehow work it into the next story I wrote. So it seemed appropriate to have it in this one in particular…_


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't see anything on this side, definitely nothing big enough to hide a huge clay man."

Sam backed out of the undergrowth, brushing leaves off himself. "Same here. It's gotta be around here somewhere though. The Golem would have to be fairly close by for Father Wilson to summon it at will."

Dean sighed and walked across to where Sam stood. "So I assume our weapons aren't going to work on this thing – there is a way to get rid of it though, right?"

Sam was about to answer when there was a loud thud and the ground shook. They both turned, looking wide-eyed at the huge grey figure advancing towards them.

"Damn, that's big." said Dean and Sam swallowed.

Big was understatement. As it got nearer it was clear that the creature stood at least a full foot taller than both of them and it was just as wide across its broad chest. The face was blank, devoid of any expression whatsoever, but the eyes glowed a dull red. As it walked the ground literally shook with each step.

"You have been judged in the eyes of our Lord and found to be sinners. You will now be punished by the hand of God."

At the sound of the voice Dean's head whipped round and he spotted Father Wilson standing to one side, almost hidden in the shadow of a large tree. "Oh great, look who's joined the party." he said and Sam followed his gaze.

The priest smiled humourlessly at both of them. "You will pay for your sins and you will repent before God or be cast out to the fires of hell."

"Yeah, well, think I'll skip that part if you don't mind." said Dean, starting to move slowly so that there was distance between him and Sam.

Sam wasn't all that keen on the manoeuvre, knowing that his brother was trying to draw the Golem to himself, but since it made sense to divide the thing's attention he grudgingly began to move in the opposite direction. "The bible preaches Thou Shalt Not Kill. Do you really think God wants you murdering people?" he said as he walked.

"They were not people, they were sinners. And God punishes the wicked. He instructed me to create this creature to do his work on Earth. We are cleansing mankind and ridding it of evil."

"Do you believe this crap?" said Dean and immediately the Golem began to move more in his direction. "Listen, pal, those little voices in your head? That's not God. That's just you being a regular psychopath."

"Dean!" hissed Sam, horribly aware that the priest seemed to be instructing the Golem to go for his brother first. "Would you shut up?"

Dean ignored the order, instead keeping his full attention on the nightmare creature that was getting nearer. While he was glad it was temporarily ignoring Sam, he had to admit he didn't really have a plan. There wasn't much you could do to something made entirely of mud and clay, and whatever Sam had discovered about killing it he hadn't had time to share before the priest and his pet showed up.

"Father, Dean's right. God wouldn't ask you to kill someone." said Sam, trying to logically argue their point and buy some time, as opposed to pissing the guy off.

"God deals with sinners in his own way, and his way is to use me as an instrument of his rule." said Wilson, the madness gleaming in his eyes even in the dusky light.

Sam realised logic wasn't going to work. The priest was clearly completely mad and honestly believed God was telling him to do this. Which left only one option.

They had to destroy the Golem.

There was now some distance between it and Sam, as it followed Dean further towards the building. Grateful for the encroaching darkness that was beginning to shroud them in shadows, Sam began to head towards the creature instead of away from it. Dean saw what he was doing and glared but he couldn't exactly tell Sam to stop without drawing attention to the move. Instead he tried to keep the Priest's attention on him. "So you really think that because you hear voices that tell you to kill that you're better than your average murderer? It hasn't occurred to you that maybe your boss might have a problem with all those poor suckers you had ripped to shreds?"

Father Wilson gave him a pitying look. "My Lord will reward me for the work I have done here. I will be given a place at his side in the kingdom of heaven."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. There was no doubt about it, this guy was completely over the edge. In fact, he was so far past it he probably couldn't even see the edge anymore. Even as the thought ran through his head Dean registered that he was running out of space. The tall imposing stone walls of the retreat reared up behind him, effectively cutting off his escape. To his right there was the eight foot fence and to his left was the psycho priest. "This is so not good." he muttered.

Now almost within touching distance the Golem reached out its huge hands, ready to grab Dean, when suddenly it staggered backwards. Dean saw two hands appear on its shoulders, from behind, and realised Sam must have literally thrown himself onto the creature. "I'm gonna kill him myself." he said, watching as the Golem tried to throw his brother off.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted aloud, even as he was moving forward to try and grab the Golem's hands and stop them reaching their intended target.

"I wanted a piggy back ride - what do you think I'm doing!" Sam shouted back, grunting as the Golem swung from side to side leaving him barely able to hang on.

Dean noted the sarcasm for later retribution and ducked one hand as it swung towards him, only to be blindsided by the other. Flying through the air he hit the ground hard and lay there winded for a second.

"Dean!"

He managed to raise one hand and wave it in Sam's general direction. "M'okay." he mumbled, slurring slightly and grimacing when he tasted blood in his mouth. Getting back to his feet and shaking his head he staggered back towards the creature.

Sam was struggling to get a good grip on the smooth clay, not to mention dodging the hands that tried to dislodge him. His heart had been in his mouth when he'd seen Dean fly through the air but luckily he'd got to his feet again pretty quickly.

Not that that meant he was ok of course.

Another vigorous shake nearly had him sliding down the Golem's back and he switched his attention back to the job at hand.

If he could just reach the thing's forehead.

Dean was distracting it again now, dodging and weaving with only slightly less grace than usual in a bid to draw its focus away from Sam. "Tell me you know how to kill this thing!" he said, loud enough for Sam to hear but hopefully not for the words to reach Father Wilson. Glancing over his shoulder just for a second he saw the priest was in fact praying, his hands clasped in front of him and his mouth moving rapidly as he kept his piercing gaze fixed on the fight in front of him.

"Yes!" said Sam, a little breathlessly."

"Wonderful. Wanna share?"

"Its forehead, you need to rub out the 'E'."

Dean nearly stopped and stared but managed not to at the last second. Which was a good thing as the swipe he ducked seconds later would have taken his head off this time. "I need to rub what?"

"You need to rub out the 'E'! It's what controls it! Emet - the word carved into its forehead – we do that and it won't work anymore!"

"You have got to be kidding me." muttered Dean but he started to try and work out how he was supposed to get to the thing's forehead anyway. If Sam said this would 'kill' it then he wasn't about to argue.

Sam didn't bother wasting any breath on answering. He knew, despite the comment, that Dean trusted him to be right when it came to research so he concentrated on just hanging on.

Suddenly an idea occurred to Dean. "Sam when I say go, jump off its back ok?"

"Ok."

Backing up a couple of steps Dean took a deep breath. He really hoped this worked first time. He counted silently in his head. "Go!"

As soon as the word left Dean's lips Sam threw himself to one side. He landed awkwardly, wincing as he felt a flare of pain in his shoulder when his left arm hit the ground first. Ignoring it he watched with his mouth open as Dean tackled the Golem like a quarterback, hitting it around the middle and yelling as he put all his strength into the move. The momentum made the creature stagger backwards and Sam held his breath, then let it out as the thing eventually toppled backwards with Dean landing heavily on top of it.

Dean didn't take the time to gloat, or deal with the bruising impact, scrambling up the creature till he reached its chest. Sitting astride he whipped his knife out of his boot, leant over and scored out the 'E' at the beginning of the word on the thing's forehead. The hand that had been reaching for him stopped and stayed there as the red glow in the eyes died out. Breathing heavily Dean leant back on his haunches and rested his hands on his knees. Looking round he spotted Sam getting to his feet. "Hey, you ok?"

Sam nodded even as he rubbed at his shoulder. "Yeah. Although you might have wanted to tell me to jump sideways. If I'd just jumped off backwards I'd be a smear under that thing right now."

Dean winced as he realised his brother had a point. "I'll remember that next time."

Sam looked pained. "There better not be a next time."

Aware suddenly that the priest hadn't come at them now his creature was incapacitated, Dean looked over. "Uh, Sam?" he said and Sam followed his gaze, frowning.

"Yeah, I see him."

Walking over cautiously Sam approached the figure on the ground. Father Wilson was on his back, eyes open, staring sightlessly at the sky. Sam carefully reached out and felt his throat, looking up at Dean as his brother joined him. "He's dead."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Anything in that lore you read mention killing the master when you kill the creature?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Maybe he just had a heart attack or something."

"Yeah, or maybe God finally got pissed at what he was doing."

Sam didn't really have an answer for that so he stood up, brushing clay dust off his hands. "We probably shouldn't be here when they find the body, even if it is natural causes."

Dean nodded, rubbing his chest absently where it had impacted with the Golem. "I'm with you but we got one small problem still."

"What's that?"

"How the hell are we going to get rid of that thing?"

In the end Sam hit on the idea of using the garden hose to wet the creature and then shovels to break it down. What they ended up with was a wet mess of dirt and clay that they spread all over the grass.

"You sure that's gonna do the job?" said Dean, leaning on the shovel and wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Yeah. It'd need another extremely holy person to reconstruct the Golem and perform the ritual, and even then it might not work. The dirt he used is no longer completely pure so at the very least they'd have to go find a mountain and get some more. Trust me, when it rains later like they said it will the stuff will just wash into the ground."

Dean still looked at the mess warily but was too tired and achy to protest. It was fully dark now and he could barely make out Sam as they washed off the shovels and put them back against the wall, rewinding the hose neatly. Sam looked at his watch, realising they were only half an hour away from Vespers. Hurrying inside they grabbed their things and made it to the Impala without seeing any of the other monks. The parking lot and drive sloped downwards so Dean coasted the car before starting the engine halfway down.

They stopped an hour later, well past the Ohio state border and satisfied that no one was following them. Sam grabbed two coffees and a couple of cinnamon rolls from the diner nearby and brought them back to where Dean leant against the hood of the car. Nodding his thanks Dean took his and bit hungrily into it, sipping the coffee as he looked at the river he could just about make out flowing past the bridge they were next to.

"You ok?" said Sam, swallowing a bite of his own roll. Dean glanced at him. "I'm fine. Just thinking about Father Wilson."

Sam sighed. "You know you were right, he really was a complete psychopath."

Dean grunted but said nothing. Sam chewed another mouthful then continued. "It wasn't about the religion though. You get that, right? I mean this guy was clinically insane, he just used God as an excuse."

Dean sighed. He really wasn't in the mood for the usual post-hunt talk-through but he knew he'd get no peace if he didn't get it over with. "Of course I know that. Look, just because I don't believe doesn't mean I hate anyone who does. And yeah, it's not religion that kills people, it's people that kill people. In fact, I reckon it must be nice to have that much faith in something greater than you."

Sam frowned. "Ok, so then what's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean shifted against the car, stalling with a sip of coffee. "Fine, I was just thinking about the whole justification thing. I mean supposing there were a God, just supposing, then maybe the crazy old priest was right. The things I've done? I can't exactly see them getting me a nice comfy spot on the other side of the pearly gates."

"Are you kidding me? Dean, you're exactly the kind of person who'd end up there. You've spent your whole life saving people and doing the right thing."

Dean interrupted him. "Yeah and I've also spent my life killing, Sam."

"Evil things that were destroying innocent people. That doesn't count."

"No? Are you totally certain everything we've killed was completely evil? Look at Lenore, that whole thing with her and Gordon alone is enough to realise that not every hunter is good and not every 'creature' is evil. Besides, we've had to do a lot of things that are in the grey area to get the job done. You were the one who always complained about that stuff the most."

Sam sighed. "Maybe. But the point is everything we've done has been to protect others. And if we have made mistakes then that's just what they are – mistakes. We do our best and we save as many lives as we can. That's what's important, Dean. And you've saved a damn sight more than most."

Dean looked sideways at Sam and grinned, feeling some of the weight lifting just like it always did. "So you're gonna be my defence attorney with God?"

Sam grinned back. "What do you think?"

"Ok, but what about the drinking and the women?"

Sam held his hands up and started moving back round towards the passenger door. "Fraid you're on your own there."

Dean laughed out loud but as the smile faded, his expression became contemplative again. Maybe he'd never really know what it was like to have that complete faith, that something bigger than the universe was out there looking out for you. But when it came down to it he did have complete faith in something and, as luck would have it, that 'something' happened to have complete faith in him as well.

So perhaps that made him the lucky one after all.

_A/N I really hope you enjoyed that (especially bhoney, of course!). This will be my last one for a while, as I really am struggling to write them at the moment. Hopefully I will be back, maybe after getting some inspiration from S4 when it starts here. Until then, all the very best and thanks a lot for reading..._


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